Hercule Poirot's Early Cases Part 21

'You have dressed the part, I see,' he observed. 'Come let us take the underground to Wimbledon.' 'Aren't we going to take anything with us? Tools to break in with?' 'My dear Hastings, Hercule Poirot does not adopt such crude methods.' I retired, snubbed, but my curiosity was alert.

It was just on midnight that we entered the small suburban garden of Buona Vista. The house was dark and silent. Poirot went straight to a window at the back of the house, raised the sash noiselessly and bade me enter.

'How did you know this window would be open?' I whispered, for really it seemed uncanny.

'Because I sawed through the catch this morning.' 'What?' 'But yes, it was the most simple. I called, presented a fict.i.tious card and one of Inspector j.a.pp's official ones. I said I had been sent, recommended by Scotland Yard, to attend to some burglarproof fastenings that Mr Lavington wanted fixed while he waz away. The housekeeper welcomed me with enthusiasm. It seems they have had two attempted burglaries here lately - evidently our little idea has occurred to other clients of Mr Lavington's - with nothing of value taken. I examined all the windows, made my little arrangement, forbade the servants to touch the windows until tomorrow, as they were electrically connected up, and withdrew gracefully.' 'Really, Poirot, you are wonderful.' 'Mon ami, it was of the simplest. Now, to work! The servants sleep at the top of the house, so we will run little risk of disturbing them.' 'I presume the safe is built into the wall somewhere?' 'Safe? Fiddlesticks! There is no safe. Mr Lavington is an intelligent man. You will see, he will have devised a hiding-place much more intelligent than a safe. A safe is the first thing everyone looks for.' Whereupon we began a systematic search of the entire place.

But after several hours' ransacking of the house, our search had been unavailing. I saw symptoms of anger gathering on Poirot's face.

'Ah, sapristi, is Hercule Poirot to be beaten? Never! Let us be calm. Let us reflect. Let us reason. Let us - en! - employ our little grey cells!' He paused for some moments, bending his brows in concentration; then the green light I knew so well stole into his eyes.

'I have been an imbecile! The kitchen?

'The kitchen,' I cried. 'But that's impossible. The servantsl' 'Exactly. Just what ninety-nine people out of a hundred would sayl And for that very reason the kitchen is the ideal place to choose. It is full of various homely objects. En avant, to the kitchenl' I followed him, completely sceptical, and watched whilst he dived into bread-bins, tapped saucepans, and put his head into the gas-oven. In the end, tired of watching him, I strolled back to the study. I was convinced that there, and there only, would we find the cache. I made a further minute search, noted that it was now a quarter past four and that therefore it would soon be growing light, and then went back to the kitchen regions.

To my utter amazement, Poirot was now standing right inside the coal-bin, to the utter ruin of his neat light suit. He made a grimace.

'But yes, my friend, it is against all my instincts so to ruin my appearance, but what will you?' 'But Lavington can't have buried it under the coal?' 'If you would use your eyes, you would see that it is not the coal that I examine.' I then saw that on a shelf behind the coal-bunker some logs of wood were piled. Poirot was dexterously taking them down one by one. Suddenly he uttered a low exclamation.

'Your knife, Hastings!'

I handed it to him. He appeared to insert it in the wood, and suddenly the log split in two. It had been neatly sawn in half and a cavity hollowed out in the centre. From this cavity Poirot took a little wooden box of Chinese make.

'Well done!' I cried, carried out of myself.

'Gently, Hastingsl Do not raise your voice too much. Come, let us be off, before the daylight is upon us.' Slipping the box into his pocket, he leaped lightly out of the coal-bunker, brushed himself down as well as he could, and leaving the house by the same way as we had come, we walked rapidly in the direction of London.

'But what an extraordinary place!' I expostulated. 'Anyone might have used the log.' 'In July, Hastings? And it was at the bottom of the pile - a very ingenious hiding-place. Ah, here is a taxil Now for home, a wash, and a refres.h.i.+ng sleep.'

After the excitement of the night, I slept late. When I finally strolled into our sitting-room just before one o'clock, I was surprised to see Poirot, leaning back in an armchair, the Chinese box open beside him, calmly reading the letter he had taken from it.

He smiled at me affectionately, and tapped the sheet he held.

'She was right, the Lady Millicent; never would the Duke have pardoned this letter{ It contains some of the most extravagant terms of affection I have ever come across.' 'Really, Poirot,' I said, rather disgustedly, 'I don't think you should really have read the letter. That's the sort of thing that isn't done.' 'It is done by Hercule Poirot,' replied my friend imperturbably.

'And another thing,' I said. 'I don't think using j.a.pp's official card yesterday was quite playing the game.' 'But I was not playing a game, Hastings. I was conducting a case.' I shrugged my shoulders. One can't argue with a point of view.

'A step on the stairs,' said Poirot. 'That will be Lady Millicent.' Our fair client came in with an anxious expression on her face which changed to one of delight on seeing the letter and go: which Poirot held up.

'Oh, M. Poirot. How wonderful of you! How did you do it?' 'By rather reprehensible methods, milady. But Mr Lavingto will not prosecute. This is your letter, is it not?' She glanced through it.

'Yes. Oh, how can I ever thank youl You are a wonderfu wonderful man. Where was it hidden?' Poirot told her.

'How very clever of you? She took up the smll box from th table. 'I shall keep this as a souvenir.' 'I had hoped, milady, that you would permit fne to keep it. also as a souvenir.' 'I hope to send you a better souvenir than that - on my wedding day. You shall not find me ungrateful, M. Poirot.' 'The pleasure of doing you a service will be more to me than cheque - so you permit that I retain the box.' 'Oh no, M. Poirot, I simply must have that,' she cried !aug} ingly.

She stretched out her hand, but Poirot was before her./lis hah closed over it.

'I think not.' His voice had changed.

'What do you mean?' Her voice seemed to have grown sharpe 'At any rate, permit me to abstract its further contents. Yo observe that the original cavity has been reduced by hall In th top half, the compromising letter; in the bottom -- ' He made a nimble gesture, then held out his haod. On the pair were four large glittering stones, and two big milky white pearl: 'The jewels stolen in Bond Street the other day, I rather fancy murmured Poirot. 'j.a.pp will tell us.' To my utter amazement, j.a.pp himself stepped out from Poirot bedroom.

'An old friend of yours, I believe,' said Poirot politely to La Milllcent.

'Nabbed, by the Lord!' said Lady Millicent, with a comple change of manner. 'You nippy old devill' She looked at Poirot wit almost affectionate awe.

'Well, Gertie, my dear,' said j.a.pp, 'the game's up this time, I fancy. Fancy seeing you again so sooni We've got your pal, too, the gentleman who called here the other day calling himself Lavington. As for Lavington himself, alias Croker, alias Reed, I wonder which of the gang it was who stuck a knife into him the other day in Holland? Thought he'd got the goods with him, didn't you? And he hadn't. He double-crossed you properly - hid 'em in his own house. You had two fellows looking for them, and then you tackled M. Poirot here, and by a piece of amazing luck he found them.'

'You do like talking, don't you?' said the late Lady Millicent.

'Easy there, now. I'll go quietly. You can't say that I'm not the perfect lady. Ta-ta, all!'

'The shoes were wrong,' said Poirot dreamily, while I was still too stupefied to speak. 'I have made my little observations of your English nation, and a lady, a born lady, is always particular about her shoes. She may have shabby clothes, but she will be well shod.

Now, this Lady Millicent had smart, expensive clothes, and cheap shoes. It was not likely that either you or I should have seen the real Lady Millicent; she has been very little in London, and this girl had a certain superficial resemblance which would pa.s.s well enough. As I say, the shoes first awakened my suspicions, and then her story - and her veil - were a little melodramatic, eh?

The Chinese box with a bogus compromising letter in the top must have been known to all the gang, but the log of wood was the late Mr Lavington's own idea. Eh, par exernple, Hastings, I hope you will not again wound my feelings as you did yesterday by aying that I am unknown to the criminal cla.s.ses. Ma roi, they even employ me when they themselves fail?

CHAPTER XVII

PROBLEM AT SEA.

'Colonel Clapperton!' said General Forbes.

He said it with an effect midway between a snort and a sniff.

Miss Ellie Henderson leaned forward, a strand of her soft grey hair blowing across her face. Her eyes, dark and snapping, gleamed with a wicked pleasure.

'Such a soldierly-looking man? she said with malicious intent, and smoothed back the lock of hair to await the result.

'Soldierly!' exploded General Forbes. He tugged at his military moustache and his face became bright red.

'In the Guards, wasn't he?' murmured Miss Henderson, completing her work.

'Guards? Guards? Pack of nonsense. Fellow was on the music hall stagel Fact! Joined up and was out in France counting tins of plum and apple. Huns dropped a stray bomb and he went home with a flesh wound in the arm. Somehow or other got into Lady Carrington's hospital.' 'So that's how they met.' 'Fact! Fellow played the wounded hero. Lady Carrington had no sense and oceans of money. Old Carrington had been in munitions. She'd been a widow only six months. This fellow snaps her up in no time. She w.a.n.gled him a job at the War Office. Colonel Clappertonl Pahl' he snorted.

'And before the war he was on the music hall stage,' mused Miss Henderson, trying to reconcile the distinguished grey-haired Colonel Clapperton with a red-nosed comedian singing mirth-provoking songs.

'Fact!' said General Forbes. 'Heard it from old Basaingtonffrench.

And he heard it from old Badger Cotterill who'd got it from Snooks Parker.' Miss Henderson nodded brightly. 'That does seem to settle it!' she said.

A fleeting smile showed for a minute on the face of a small man sitting near them. Miss Henderson noticed the smile. She was observant. It had shown appreciation of the irony underlying her last remark - irony which the General never for a moment suspected.

The General himself did not notice the smiles. He glanced at his watch, rose and remarked: 'Exercise. Got to keep oneself fit on a boat,' and pa.s.sed out through the open door on to the deck.

Miss Henderson glanced at the man who had smiled. It was a well-bred glance indicating that she was ready to enter into conversation with a fellow traveller.

'He is energetic - yes?' said the little man.

'He goes round the deck forty-eight times exactly,' said Miss Henderson. 'What an old gossip! And they say we are the scandal-loving s.e.x.' 'What an impoliteness!' 'Frenchmen are always polite,' said Miss Henderson - there was the nuance of a question in her voice.

The little man responded promptly. 'Belgian, mademoiselle.' 'Obi Belgian.' 'Hercule Poirot. At your service.' The name aroused some memory. Surely she had heard it before - ? 'Are you enjoying this trip, M. Poirot?' 'Frankly, no. It was an imbecility to allow myself to be persuaded to come. I detest la mcr. Never does it remain tranquil no, not for a little minute.' 'Well, you admit it's quite calm now.' M. Poirot admitted this grudgingly. '.4 ce moment, yes. That is why I revive. I once more interest myself in what pa.s.ses around me - your very adept handling of the General Forbes, for instance.' 'You mean -' Miss Henderson paused. ttercule Poirot bowed. 'Your methods of extracting the scandalous matter. Admirable?

Miss Henderson laughed in an unashamed manner. 'That touch about the Guards? I knew that would bring the old boy up spluttering and gasping.' She leaned forward confidentially. 'I admit I life scandal - the more ill-natured, the betterl'

Poirot looked thoughtfully at her - her slim well-preserved figure, her keen dark eyes, her grey hair; a woman of forty-five who was content to look her age.

Ellie said abruptly: 'I have it! Aren't you the great detective?' Poirot bowed. 'You are too amiable, mademoiselle.' But he made no disclaimer.

'How thrilling,' said Miss Henderson. 'Are you "hot on the trail" as they say in books? Have we a criminal secretly in our midst? Or am I being indiscreet?' 'Not at all. Not at all. It pains me to disappoint your expectations, but I am simply here, like everyone else, to amuse myself.' He said it in such a gloomy voice that Miss Henderson laughed.

'Oh! Well, you will be able to get ash.o.r.e tomorrow at Alexandria.

You have been to Egypt before?' 'Never, mademoiselle.' Miss Henderson rose somewhat abruptly.

'I think I shall join the General on his const.i.tutional,' she announced.

Poirot sprang politely to his feet.

She gave him a little nod and pa.s.sed out on to the deck.

A faint puzzled look showed for a moment in Poirot's eyes, then, a little smile creasing his lips, he rose, put his head through the door and glanced down the deck. Miss Henderson was leaning against the rail talking to a tall, soldierly-looking man.

Poirot's smile deepened. He drew himself back into the smoking-room with the same exaggerated care with which a tortoise withdraws itself into its sh.e.l.l. For the moment he had the smoking-room to himself, though he rightly conjectured that that would not last long.

It did not. Mrs Clapperton, her cdrefully waved platinum head protected with a net, her ma.s.saged and dieted form dressed in a smart sports suit, came through the door from the bar with the purposeful air of a woman who has always been able to pay top price for anything she needed.

She said: 'John - ? Ohl Good morning, M. Poirot - have you seen John?' 'He's on the starboard deck, madame. Shall I - ?'

She arrested him with a gesture. 'I'll sit here a minute.' She at down in a regal fas.h.i.+on in the chair opposite him. From the distance she had looked a possible twenty-eight. Now, in spite of her exquisitely made-up face, her delicately plucked eyebrows, she looked not her actual forty-nine years, but a possible fifty-five.

Her eyes were a hard pale blue with tiny pupils.

'I was sorry not to have seen you at dinner last night,' she said.

'It was just a shade choppy, of course -' 'Prdcisgrnent,' said Poirot with feeling.

'Luckily, I am an excellent sailor,' said Mrs Clapperton. 'I say luckily, because, with my weak heart, seasickness would probably be the death of me.' 'You have the weak heart, madame?' 'Yes, I have to be most careful. I must not overtire myself AR the specialists say so!' Mrs Clapperton had embarked on the - to her - ever-fascinating topic of her health. 'John, poor darting, wears himself out trying to prevent me from doing too much. I live so intensely, if you know what I mean, M. Poirot?' 'Yes, yes.' 'He always says to me: "Try to be more of a vegetable, Adeline." But I can't. Life was meant to be lived, I feel. As a matter of fact I wore myself out as a girl in the war. My hospital - you've heard of my hospital? Of course I had nurses and matrons and all that but I actually ran it.' She sighed.

'Your vitality is marvellous, dear lady,' said Poirot, with the slightly mechanical air of one responding to his cue.

Mrs Clapperton gave a girlish laugh.

'Everyone tells me how young I ami It's absurd. I never try to pretend I'm a day less than forty-three,' she continued with lightly mendacious candour, 'but a lot of people find it hard to believe. "You're so alive, Adeline," they ay to me. But really, M.

Poirot, what would one be if one wasn't alive?' 'Dead,' said Poirot.

Mrs Clapperton frowned. The reply was not to her liking. The man, she decided, was trying to be funny. She got up and said coldly: 'I must find John.' As she stepped through the door she dropped her handbag. It opened and the contents flew far and wide. Poirot rushed gallantly to the rescue. It was some few minutes before the lipsticks, vanit boxes, cigarette case and lighter and other odds and ends were collected. Mrs Clapperton thanked him politely, then she swep! down the deck and said, 'John ' Colonel Clapperton was still deep in conversation with Mis Henderson. He swung round and came quickly to meet his wife.

He bent over her protectively. Her deck chair - was it in the right place? Wouldn't it be better - ? His manner was courteous - full of gentle consideration. Clearly an adored wife spoilt by ar adoring husband.

Miss Ellie Henderson looked out at the horizon as though. something about it rather disgusted her.

Standing in the smoking-room door, Poirot looked on.

A hoa.r.s.e quavering voice behind him said: 'I'd take a hatchet to that woman if I were her husband.' The old gentleman known disrespectfully among the younger set on board as the Grandfather of All the Tea Planters, had just shuffled in. 'Boyl' he called. 'Get me a whisky peg.' Poirot stooped to retrieve a torn sc.r.a.p of notepaper, an over. looked item from the contents of Mrs Clapperton's bag. Part of. prescription, he noted, containing digitalin. He put it in hi.' pocket, meaning to restore it to Mrs Clapperton later.

'Yes,' went on the aged pa.s.senger. 'Poisonous woman, l remember a woman like that in Poona. In '87 that was.' 'Did anyone take a hatchet to her?' inquired Poirot.

The old gentleman shook his head sadly.

'Worried her husband into his grave within the year. Clapperton ought to a.s.sert himself. Gives his wife her head too much.' 'She holds the purse strings,' said Poirot gravely.

'Ha, ha!' chuckled the old gentleman. 'You've put the matter in a nutsh.e.l.l. Holds the purse strings. Ha, hal' Two girls burst into the smoking-room. One had a round face with freckles and dark hair streaming out in a windswept con. fusion, the other had freckles and curly chestnut hair.

'A rescue - a rescue? cried Kitty Mooney. 'Pam and I are going to rescue Colonel Clapperton.'

'From his wife,' gasped Pamela Cregan.

'We think he's a pet...' 'And she's just awful - she won't let him do anything,' the two girls exclaimed.

'And if he isn't with her, he's usually grabbed by the Henderson woman...' 'Who's quite nice. But terribly old...' They ran out, gasping in between giggles: 'A rescue - a rescue That the rescue of Colonel Clapperton was no isolated sally, but a fixed project was made clear that same evening when the eighteen-year-old Pam Cregan came up to Hercule Poirot, and murmured: 'Watch us, M. Poirot. He's going to be cut out from under her nose and taken to walk in the moonlight on the boat deck.' It was just at that moment that Colonel Clapperton was saying: 'I grant you the price of a Rolls-Royce. But it's practically good for a lifetime. Now my car - ' 'My car, I think, John.' Mrs Clapperton's voice was shrill and penetrating.

He showed no annoyance at her ungraciousness. Either he was used to it by this time, or else 'Or else?' thought Poirot and let himself speculate.

'Certainly, my dear, your car,' Clapperton bowed to his wife and finished what he had been saying, perfectly unruffled.

'Voild ce qu'on appelle le pukka sahib,' thought Poirot. 'But the General Forbes says that Clapperton is no gentleman at all. I wonder now.' There was a suggestion of bridge. Mrs Clapperton, General Forbes and a hawk-eyed couple sat down to it. Miss Henderson had excused herself and gone out on deck.

'What about your husband?' asked General Forbes, hesitating.

'John won't play,' said Mrs Clapperton. 'Most tiresome of him.' The four bridge players began shuffling the cards.

Pam and Kitty advanced on Colonel Clapperton. Each one took an arm.

'You're coming with us!' said Pam. 'To the boat deck. There's a moon.'

'Don't be foolish, John,' said Mrs Clapperton. 'You'll catch a chill.'

'llot with us, he won't,' said Kitty. 'We're hot stuff!'